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The public conversation about AI and work is stuck on the wrong question. “Will my job be replaced?” is the framing everyone reaches for, because it has a clean visual: a robot taking a specific seat. The headlines love it. Goldman: AI to replace 300 million jobs. McKinsey: half of all work activity automatable. The displacement frame promises an event — an announcement, a layoff, a press release — and the policy answers it suggests are familiar: retraining, universal basic income, regulation. ...

Revised on 2026-04-28 to v1.1. See revision history below. Look at any AI-skeptic feed in 2026 and you’ll see the word slop doing heavy work. It names something real: low-entropy, mass-produced text without an author behind it, flooding feeds, search results, comment sections, product reviews. There’s now a small genre of essays explaining why this is bad for civilization. Some of them are excellent. Some of them are slop themselves. I want to ask a different question. Not whether AI slop is bad — clearly some of it is — but why we’re so confident we can recognize it. Because if you squint at a lot of professional life, much of what we produce on a normal Tuesday already qualifies. Legal boilerplate. Corporate memo-speak. Quarterly reports that survive only because nobody reads them. Status updates that say nothing. Standardized medical notes whose function is mostly forensic. ...

Watch a photon leave the surface of the sun and arrive at your retina. Eight minutes earlier it was inside a star; now it is inside an eye. Of all the paths it could have taken — and physics, in some literal interpretations, says it did take all of them — the one that resolves into your day was the one that minimized a quantity called action. Light finds the cheap route. ...

In Airplane! (1980), Lloyd Bridges plays Steve McCroskey, an air-traffic controller running a disaster on the ground while a single pilot with food poisoning tries not to kill everyone on the plane above. McCroskey is on two phones at once. He’s barking at his wife. He’s pivoting to a subordinate mid-sentence. He’s drinking coffee, then cigarettes, then amphetamines, then glue, in that order. Every fifteen minutes or so, the camera cuts back to him and he delivers the same line with a slightly different noun: ...

In Enlightenment and Madness I argued that José Arcadio Buendía wasn’t mad in the way Macondo thought he was — that the patriarch tied to the chestnut tree was another face of the same transcendence that lifts Remedios la Bella into the sky. Two exits from ordinary consciousness, one serene, one savage. A reader — my mother, actually — pushed back on that with a sharp question. If he had lived today, she asked, would you still call it wisdom, or would you just put him on a medication and send him home? ...

Rereading Cien años de soledad after many years, I found myself less drawn to the Buendía dynasty’s epic sweep than to two characters at opposite poles of the novel: Remedios la Bella, who ascends bodily into the sky while folding sheets, and José Arcadio Buendía, the patriarch who dies tied to a chestnut tree, speaking Latin to the ghosts only he can see. Both escape Macondo. Both leave ordinary reality behind. But they do so from diametrically opposite directions — one upward into serenity, the other downward into madness. The more I thought about it, the more this looked like a question Buddhism has wrestled with for centuries: what separates enlightenment from craziness, and are they really opposites at all? ...

The book Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism by Yanis Varoufakis got me into thinking about the Minotaur, but at the same time I couldn’t help but think about Kirtimukha. I decided to write a piece comparing the two myths and how they relate to capitalism. Capitalism: A Labyrinthine Monster or an Eternal Hunger? Throughout history, economic systems have been compared to great forces of nature, war machines, or living organisms. But if we turn to mythology, two figures stand out as powerful metaphors for modern capitalism: the Minotaur, a monster lurking in an inescapable labyrinth, and Kirtimukha, a self-consuming face that never disappears. ...

Throughout history, humans have displayed an unrivaled ability to adapt, exploit, and manipulate their environment. Unlike other animals bound by instinct, we leverage intelligence, creativity, and ruthlessness to ensure our survival and dominance. This opportunism has led to incredible advancements—but also immense destruction. The Evolutionary Edge of Opportunism Opportunism is not unique to humans; many animals take advantage of favorable circumstances. However, what sets us apart is the scale and sophistication of our strategies. From early humans using fire to hunt more efficiently to modern corporations exploiting global markets, our ability to seize opportunities is limitless. ...

The United States enjoyed a remarkable period of economic prosperity and social stability between the post-World War II era and the early 1980s. During this time, the petite bourgeoisie — the small business owners, independent professionals, and middle-class workers — thrived as the backbone of the American Dream. However, recent decades have seen this group face mounting challenges. Now, the question arises: is the petite bourgeoisie waking up to the economic and political realities that have eroded their former stability? ...

The Kagyu lineage is one of the four major schools of Tibetan Buddhism, alongside the Nyingma, Sakya, and Gelug traditions. Known as the “oral lineage” due to its emphasis on oral transmission of teachings from master to disciple, the Kagyu school is deeply rooted in meditative practices and experiential learning. Its teachings focus on practices such as Mahamudra, a profound meditation on the nature of mind, and the Six Yogas of Naropa, which include advanced techniques for spiritual realization. ...